


baptized by fire

by heyabooboo



Category: Ready or Not (2019)
Genre: Daniel Lives, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Post-Canon Fix-It, Survivors to Friends to Lovers, dealing with the trauma of canon, grace has ptsd but it's... done with broad strokes, or well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22490119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyabooboo/pseuds/heyabooboo
Summary: She catches herself smiling, thinking of them and realizes just how far she’s come in the months following The Nightmare Night. (Dr. Golightly tells her she can call it whatever she wants, but she stubbornly refuses to skirt away from it and call it something vague like ‘The Incident’. Fear of the name and all that, she thinks.) She has a family that’s somewhat adopted her and Daniel, and her neighbors… for better or for worse, are some of her closest friends.OR: I wrote another 2k on a very small prompt. I think I might have a problem.
Relationships: Daniel Le Domas/Grace Le Domas
Comments: 15
Kudos: 209





	baptized by fire

**Author's Note:**

> originally came from a prompt from an anon on tumblr that was literally, "How do u feel about sensory prompts? For example, "The smell of burning wood" for GracexDaniel". and then i sat down and wrote 2k in a day.
> 
> this hasn't been beta read, so mistakes are mine. if i need to add a tag, feel free to let me know and i'd love it if you'd come say hi [on tumblr](http://heyabooboo.tumblr.com)!

Her therapist warned her away from weddings. Yeah, like she wanted to be there, anyway. Mark her down as ‘bitter’ towards weddings after how hers ended. Grace watched her write some notes down after that particularly harsh tangent. Whatever, fuck it, Grace thought. She knows she’s fucked up, maybe even irreparably damaged.

That had been months ago. Now, she asks Grace if she still gets anxiety in small spaces.

When Grace started therapy, she lied. A lot. That was two therapists ago. One was a man who reminded her too much of Tony and she’d had a panic attack, having to sit with Daniel in an empty office until she could put more than two syllables together. The other was a woman that wasn’t a good fit, mostly because of her chilling resemblance to Charity. But she’d been gracious when Grace had explained she couldn’t see her anymore.

Dr. Golightly doesn’t look like any of them. She has far too warm of a personality to be confused for a Le Domas, and because of that, Grace doesn’t need to lie anymore. She tells her the anxiety is still there, worse when Daniel’s not next to her. She knows what that sounds like, what it implies. Codependency. She says as much to her and watches as her therapist bristles, eyes rolling.

Grace likes Dr. Golightly. She doesn’t sugar coat the bullshit, and tells Grace that what they have, while they depend on each other, is not Codependency. She asks Grace to name some ‘bad decisions’ that they enable within the other person, and Grace comes up empty. Before she brings the session to a close, she asks Grace to think on the good decisions that they help each other with. How they improve each other’s lives.

Daniel’s waiting for her with her jacket over his arm and a smile that wrinkles the corners of his eyes when she comes into the waiting room. He no longer smells like a distillery and hasn’t for six months. As he helps her put on her jacket, she wonders when he decided to kick the binge drinking, what prompted that from him. Was it her? _Did_ she improve his life?

She’s still wrapping her head around the session, still processing as they make their way to the car. Daniel’s a comforting presence next to her, knowing she’s always quietly withdrawn on therapy days, and he seems happy to wait until she comes out of her shell.

He holds her hand once they settle in their seats, their palms pressed together. It’s the child-like cupping of hands rather than the lacing of fingers that speaks of intimacy, but her hand is still healing. It’s only been seven months since Georgie blew a hole through it. It aches in the cold and the scar isn’t pretty.

She has to swallow against the sudden flashbacks of the ambulance ride, following that night. He must notice the tremor that goes through her, because he reaches to nudge the heater up, palm coming back, warmth making her nerves come alight — sparking life back in her with a simple touch of their hands. Jesus Christ, she sounds like a Jane Austen novel.

But Grace is definitely not Elizabeth Bennet, and Daniel’s no Mr. Darcy.

But that didn’t make them any less good for each other, did it? That’s what Dr. Golightly was getting at; while they weren’t strictly typical… their _story_ wasn’t typical, meaning their relationship couldn’t be. And they’re making the best of it, aren’t they?

“Let’s take a trip.” her voice is husky, even though it’s only been half an hour since she last spoke. Daniel looks surprised, but pleasantly so. He looks good, she comes to the startling revelation. No longer the unruly beard but trimmed scruff, hair longer, almost in a surfer-esque cut. His hair is curly and she can’t remember if she’s ever touched it. It looks soft.

“‘Kay,” he easily agrees, his attention bouncing between the road and her. His fingers curl around the steering wheel and turn down the volume on the radio. She recognizes the guitar to be Jimi Hendrix, but she doesn’t recognize the song. The fact that he listens to 70s rock tilts her perception of him, and it takes an extra moment for her to come back to the conversation in time to catch the last portion of his question. “— kind of trip?”

“Alex—” his name still makes a bright metallic taste suddenly burst in her mouth. Will that ever stop, or will she just get used to it? “He used to talk about a cabin?”

“The one upstate?” the surprise is still there, and he nods, the car slowing to a stop for traffic. “Sure. Might take a couple hours to clean it up, get it warmed up, but we can stay up there if you want to.”

She nods. “I want to.”

They live together in a tri-level brownstone, squished between a nice Italian family that has more love for not only their family, but the whole damn neighborhood than Grace has ever seen, and on the other side, a gay couple that bickers like they’re already an old married couple. Stella sends her youngest boy, Matt, over with extra food almost weekly, while Bruce and Anthony were the first people outside of Dr. Golightly and the Police that she told about her Nightmare Night. She left out the implosions (or were those _ex_ plosions?) and the deal with the devil, of course, but… it had been cathartic, having other people cheer her on through her story, gasping appropriately at the horror and swoon over Daniel being the White Knight she always knew him to be. It felt good to be validated and accepted for all her fucked-up-ness.

Now they invite her over for Gossip Fridays, and the two of them drink margaritas while she has tea and they shittalk about their coworkers, sometimes their family members, and they flirt unashamedly with Daniel when he comes home from work late and collects her from their grasp.

She catches herself smiling, thinking of them and realizes just how far she’s come in the months following The Nightmare Night. (Dr. Golightly tells her she can call it whatever she wants, but she stubbornly refuses to skirt away from it and call it something vague like ‘The Incident’. Fear of the name and all that, she thinks.) She has a family that’s somewhat adopted her and Daniel, and her neighbors… for better or for worse, are some of her closest friends. She chuckles in happy surprise.

Daniel catches her eye as he parks their SUV and gently smiles at her, a question shining bright in his eyes. She just shrugs in response and they separate to step out into the cold December weather. It’s just starting to snow, the wind tossing the flakes here and there, and when she turns from unlocking the front door to watch Daniel climbing the steps, she finds that some has caught in his hair on the way from the car.

He shuts the door, making sure to secure it with the deadbolt and tilts to catch her eye before they dance over her face. He’s searching for an answer, but ends up letting one side of his mouth turn up, still quizzical. “You doin’ okay?” His hand is big and warm on her arm where he rubs it gently.

Suddenly, like Dr. Golightly had blown the levee, Grace is flooded with memories of all the good things they’ve done for each other over the past seven months. Of take-out Chinese and watching baking shows while they played Domino's; of Boggle tournaments on opposite sides of the couch, both of them squinting playfully back at the other over their phones; of curling up with each other when the nightmares reared their ugly head, making it too hard to get out of bed that day and deal with any of the trauma, depending on solitaire and cartoons to distract them.

Grace finds the smile easy to come by, to let it lift her mouth. She looks at Daniel and realizes how much easier it’s been to breathe the past few months, because of his help.

“Yeah.” She nods and she finds she means it. “I’m okay.”

Between the traffic and the weather turning, they don’t make it there until four hours later, even though he assures her it’s normally only a two hour drive. It’s still early afternoon, but the clouds are heavy and dark, threatening snow. Daniel parks the car in the driveway and leans over the steering wheel, squinting at the sky. He finally sighs as he sits back.

“We only have enough time to clean up the house, or go grocery shopping. Unless we split up and each take a task.” Grace gulps as she looks at the house — because make no mistake, _that_ is definitely not just a ‘cabin’ — through the window. She’s sure it’s just her imagination that it’s daunting, looking haunted. It was just bad memories at a different house, that’s all. The Le Domases were obviously fans of a particular kind of architecture.

“I can go shopping.” She offers with more confidence than she feels. Daniel doesn’t quite look convinced, and she huffs a sigh and rolls her eyes. “I have my phone on me. Daniel. I can handle it.”

He raises his hands in surrender and shrugs, “Alright. I’ll keep my sound on in case you need to call.” and then he’s sliding out of the car, but before he can take a step too far, Grace calls after him, pushing open her own door.

“Wait!” She rounds the car, immediately going up onto her toes once she has a hold of the lapels of his jacket. She tries to think of something witty to say, but what comes out is: “I’m sorry this took so long.” before she leans in and pulls him closer, their mouths fitting against each other’s like a couple of magnets, perfectly aligned in their attraction. The kiss goes on for a few long moments, and she finds herself shivering when his tongue meets her lower lip, a spark of lightning traveling down her spine and making her whole body feel like she’s coming back to life.

“I’ll forgive you if more of those happen.” Daniel grins when they pull back for air. She grins back.

She hasn’t been inept all these months, needing somebody to be with her all the time. But as she scoots the seat up and watches Daniel disappear into the dark house, the door shutting behind him, she realizes she hasn’t quite been herself, either. But this feels good, this feels… like a step in the right direction. She reflects on what she can remember from sessions with Dr. Golightly while she follows the GPS’ directions to the supermarket that’s a bit of a drive north.

The basket fills quickly with food she knows they both like, and with food she knows Daniel loves but she won’t touch and vice-versa. The cashier doesn’t seem interested in making a lot of small talk, but his smile is nice enough and Grace only finds herself a little anxious, eyes darting to the people waiting in line. None of them have familiar faces and the knot in her stomach loosens even further. On her way out, she carefully watches all the other faces she comes across and finds… they’re nobody she knows.

She’s feeling giddy by the time she parks the car and darts to the front door, spilling through it when she misses opening it on the first try, the doorknob slippery from the snow. She’s excited to tell him the news of no longer being haunted by the ghosts of his dead family, but the smile and the laughter that colors her tone when she calls out his name dulls as she catches sight of the living room, right off the foyer.

There’s a fireplace, crackling warm and shedding a romantic light across the room. In front of it is a coffee table, candles flickering away, adding to the aura. There’s a Scrabble board already laid out atop the table, tile holders on either side, pouch full and sitting between two glasses, already filled with what she can only guess to be white wine.

“Hey.” He greets softly, coming up behind her. She still has her jacket on, but his chin dips to rest on her shoulder, arms finding their way around her. “Is it too much?”

She can smell the fire from here, and she swallows, her fingers seeking out his arms _(the feel of his skin)_ to ground her here in reality. She thinks of the mansion burning around her as she left; of her shoulder and hand, ankle and back bleeding away into the numbness of an adrenaline crash. She thinks of how choking the smoke had been, how it had seemed to burn like holy fire, banishing the evil and blessing the ashes that became of that house.

She thinks of the miracle of the firemen carrying Daniel out — of the paramedics shocking his heart back to life. Of the miracle that Le Bail didn’t take him. Grace gulps and shakily breathes out, realizing that maybe that fire had been a metaphor for them, too: baptized by fire, and learning to rise from the ashes.

“It’s perfect.” she turns and kisses him.

Minutes pass and Daniel pulls away from her, confused. Their lips make a smacking sound as they separate. “Did you put the groceries away already?”

“FUCK! I bought a shitton of frozen shit, too!” she hurries back out the door, past his cheery laughter, yelling back at him once she opens the trunk. “Daniel! Stop laughing at me, you dick, and _help me!”_


End file.
